


Scott Summers Reader-Inserts

by hallaratthemoon (orphan_account)



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universes, Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8912482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hallaratthemoon
Summary: A variety of Scott Summers x Reader works that I have written out on my Tumblr. Most of these are based off prompts I have been sent.





	1. Penis Party

While you had never really been one for Christmas parties, it was a sort of necessary commitment at this time of the year. Jean had told you _weeks_ ago that her friend, Scott Summers, was having a Christmas party and you just _had_ to go. On any other day, you would have said no. Dead ass, no way, no how, you were not going to some fancy Christmas party put on by someone you didn’t even know. The only reason you didn’t this time was because _three_ of your friends were staring you down across the laminated, mall food court table and they would skin you if you didn’t get out of your house.

That is why, on the eve of Christmas, you can be found currently meandering around a party that you had no desire to be at. Currently, you were sipping on the punch that had been offered you and trying to find some excuse to get out of being here. You were uncomfortable to the extreme, and the fact that you had to wear a fancy outfit didn’t help a bit. Adjusting the collar of your outfit again, you swallow thickly and squint up at the Christmas tree.

It wasn’t huge, not in the slightest, but it was far nicer than any Christmas tree’s you’d had growing up, and it made something boil under your skin. Of course Jean’s friend would be rich, who in her group _wasn’t_ a dazzling millionaire with looks to boot? This Scott Summers guy had to be at _least_ a millionaire, given the amount of stuff that you could see in this place. Just as you’re about to turn around, find Jean and tell her you’re feeling ill, something catches your eye and makes you focus more intently on the tree ornaments.

“What in the…” Pushing aside the branches, you look from side to side to make sure no one is staring at you as you all but shove your head into the tree to get a better look at one of the ornaments. “Is that a penis ornament?”

Someone clears their throat, making you jump and drop your cup of punch. Thankfully it’s nearly empty, so not much comes spilling out, but the cup _does_ shatter, causing everyone around you to turn and stare openly. Whoever it is that scared you merely waves their hand, smiling brightly.

“Nothing to see here! Just a little spill, I’ll get right on it.”

When the person, sorry, _man_ , turns back to face you, your tongue dries up in your mouth. Before he can speak again, you grasp the ornament firmly and yank it out of the tree. Waving it in his face, you blurt out, “Is this a _penis_ ornament?”

His face burns scarlet as he grabs your hand and lowers it quickly, dragging you into another room before dropping your wrist and searching for something. “Would you lower your voice, _please_? It’s not like I need every guest in a foot radius knowing I put a penis ornament on my tree.”

“ _Your_ tree? Oh my god, you’re Scott! Jean told me about you, but I never took you for-“

“A charmingly handsome bachelor?” He winks, making your lips fold together as you cross your arms.

“A man who puts penis decorations on a Christmas tree,” you finish, raising a brow and watching his back tense.

Turning to face you, he rubs his eyes and then lets out a breath. “Please, _please_ do not tell anyone I did that.”

You pause, looking at the man in front of you and blinking a few times. “You’re not as old as I thought you would be. I suppose that explains the pen-“

“Don’t say it again! Just…let’s drop it. I put a penis on the tree and you broke one of my glasses. I’m going to clean it up, have a nice night. Put that back where you got it as well.”

With that, Scott leaves the room, grumbling under his breath about something you can’t quite hear. You look down at the ornament in your hand and hum softly. “Seems you and I have to get back to that tree. Why not tease old Scotty boy first, though?”


	2. Scotty Clause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Person A has their hands wrapped around a warm cup of hot chocolate and is staring out the window when person B walks in wearing nothing but santa themed undergarments, asking if person A wants to sit on their lap. Bonus points if person A is disappointed if person B isn’t wearing their favorite pair of antlers.

Humming softly along to the Christmas tune playing on the radio, you tilt your head to the side, eyes closed in bliss. It was warm and festive in your home, bringing a beautiful feeling of holiday spirit, despite everything that might have been happening in the world. Clutching your mug of hot chocolate tighter in your cold hands, you inhale the smell of cocoa and a hint of cinnamon. Just as you go to take a sip, a throat is cleared near the entrance to the living room, your eyes flitting over to see what your lover might want.

“Oh. My. God.” A laugh bursts from your mouth, your body shaking as you set aside your drink so that you don’t spill it. Clutching at your sides, you look back up at Scott, a twinkle in your eyes.

Moving closer to you, he smiles and winks, licking his lips as he adjusts his boxers that resemble a very familiar costume. He takes a seat beside you, arms wide as he adjusts his glasses on his nose. “Want to sit in my lap? Tell dear old Scott what you want for Christmas.”

You can’t stop laughing as you crawl over to him, sitting on his thighs and just staring at him. “I can’t believe you’re wearing _Santa_ boxers. What happened to a comfy shirt and sweats? It’s snowing outside, Scott.” A finger trails down his chest, drawing patterns against his skin as he tilts his head back and sighs. His arms are thrown over the back of the couch, mind somewhere else for the moment.

When your hand disappears from him, he looks back at you, seeing a pout on your lips. “What?”

“You’re not wearing the reindeer antlers. You know how much I love them,” you whine, reaching out and running your fingers through his hair. Scott’s breathing gets heavier when you reach the hair at the back of his head, your hand gripping it and tugging gently. A soft moan escapes him as he closes his eyes and arches his back off the couch.

After a minute of silence, he clears his throat and licks his dry lips. “I-I’ll go g-grab them.”


End file.
